I Hate the Corner
by RosalieAnneliese
Summary: A punishment spanking in the Benson/Cabot household. Told from Alex's POV.


Well, here I am, in trouble again, with my nose planted firmly in the corner. I hate the corner. Why? It's not because it's boring (although it is). It's not because I have trouble standing still (although I do). It's because when Olivia puts me here, I know that I'm in _big_ trouble, and I hate disappointing Olivia more than anything in the world. I really do try to be a good girl for her. I guess I just forget how sometimes. Olivia is always telling me that everybody makes mistakes. It's part of what makes us human. The difference is whether we learn from our mistakes or not. That is her goal, and mine too. That I learn from my mistakes. Olivia is my lover, best friend, and disciplinarian.

My heart leaps into my throat when I hear Olivia enter the bedroom, and I involuntarily clench my bottom cheeks. I know that my punishment is drawing near. It's funny how I hate standing in the corner, but when it's time for my spanking, I wish I could stay in the corner forever. I know that I'm not allowed out of the corner until Olivia calls me, so I stay put. I wonder which implement Olivia is going to use today.

"Come here, Alex." Olivia's voice is not angry. She is calm and authoritative. I have seen her get rough with many perps, but I cannot remember a time when she has raised her voice to me. I turn from the corner and walk over to where she is sitting on our bed. I kneel down on the floor in front of her knees so that we are on eye-level. Her deep brown eyes are kind but stern.

"Do you understand why you're in trouble, Alex?" she inquires. Olivia is always good about making sure I understand exactly why I'm about to go over her knee. Sometimes I really hate this part, though. In court, people can plead insanity. I can't do that here. I know the rules, and I know when I'm breaking them. Playing dumb never works around here. Trust me.

"Yes, ma'am," I answer respectfully, "I disobeyed you, and then I lied to you about it." It sounds even worse when I say it out loud, and I blush, thoroughly embarrassed by my childish behavior. My heart pounds heavily as I wait for my loving yet strict disciplinarian to hand down my sentence. I can only hope that she will go easy on me, but I know that I rarely deserve her mercy.

"For disobeying me," Olivia begins, "you are going to get a healthy dose of the wooden spoon. For lying to me about it, you are going to get a good paddling. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." It is basically never that I get away with just a hand-spanking. I almost always get some sort of implement, and usually more than one. Without being told, I reach into a drawer and bring out the wooden paddle. Then I head for the kitchen to find the wooden spoon.

"Good girl," Olivia praises me upon my return for my acceptance of my punishment, "pull down your jeans and panties, and lay over my lap, please."

I reluctantly do as I am told. All of my spankings are given on my bare bottom. I mostly understand the logic behind this. It's not like my panties provide much protection anyway. It's going to hurt no matter what. Olivia always tells me that that's the point. If the spanking doesn't hurt, then it is useless as a punishment and a deterrent.

Once I am settled over Olivia's strong thighs, Olivia picks up the wooden spoon. She asks me if I remember the rules, and I answer the affirmative. During my spanking, I am not allowed to reach back and cover my bottom with my hand, and I am not allowed to kick my feet. If I do either of these things, I will get an extra spanking tonight before we go to bed. Trust me, one spanking is bad enough. Two spankings in one day hurts like Hell. I am usually good about keeping my hands in check, but I have to concentrate hard on not kicking my feet.

Olivia always lets me know that the first smack is coming by gripping my waist a little more tightly. Olivia does not lecture me during my spanking. She wants me to concentrate on associating the sting on my bottom with my behavior.

As the spanking progresses, I can practically feel my bottom turning bright red. Olivia is spanking hard and fast. If you've ever been spanked with a wooden spoon, you know how it feels. Like a swarm of bees is attacking your bottom. This is usually the point when I start to cry. I do my best not to beg Olivia to stop, though. First of all, it never does any good anyway, and usually does exactly the opposite, prolonging my spanking rather than shortening it. And second, I know that it is hard for Olivia to hear me beg. I know that she doesn't enjoy causing me pain, and is only doing it for my own good, to teach me to be her good girl. Something that I desperately want to learn to do.

With the blood pulsating in my bottom, it takes me a few minutes to realize that Olivia has put down the spoon and is gently rubbing the small of my back, an action that I always find very soothing. I look over my shoulder, and Olivia offers me a sympathetic smile. I am still crying, but I take this opportunity to repeat how sorry I am and how I will try to be a good girl from now on.

"I know you will, sweetie," Olivia assures me, "are you ready for your paddling?"

"Yes, ma'am." What a silly question. No person in their right mind is ever _ready_ for a paddling. But Olivia calling me "sweetie" gives me comfort. It means that whatever little bit of anger she had toward my behavior is pretty much gone, and I know that forgiveness is near.

I try not to make too much noise as my paddling commences, but having already been spanked with the wooden spoon, the paddle feels like Olivia is killing my bottom, and I can't help but let out a shriek. My legs quiver. I want to kick so badly. But I force my legs to stay down. We are halfway done, and I don't want to disappoint Olivia further by earning myself a bedtime spanking. I almost lose control of my hands, but I quickly grab the comforter on the bed to keep myself from reaching back.

When Olivia finally decides to put down the paddle, I am sobbing my heart out. Again, it takes me a few minutes to realize that I am no longer being paddled. Then I hear the words that I've been longing to hear.

"It's over, sweetie. You can get up and get a big hug whenever you feel like it." Olivia never rushes me off of her lap. I am welcome to stay there for as long as it takes for me to feel like I can stand up. But I desperately want to be held in Olivia's loving embrace, so after only a few brief moments I quickly scramble to my feet. Olivia welcomes me onto her lap, bare bottom and all. She wraps her strong arms around me. I latch onto her neck and rest my head on her shoulder to cry out the rest of my tears. I've lost count of how many of Olivia's shirts I've soaked with my tears over the years. But she never seems to mind.

Olivia strokes my hair and rubs my back while we cuddle. I love to cuddle with Olivia, even when I haven't just been spanked. But post-spanking cuddles are the ones that make me feel the safest, the most protected. While we cuddle, Olivia rocks me back and forth, soothingly cooing in my ear, assuring me that she loves me very much, that I was a brave girl for my punishment, and that I am forgiven.

Sometimes Olivia will have me go back to the corner for a few minutes after my spanking. But I am glad that this is one of the times she doesn't. As I said earlier, I hate the corner.


End file.
